


Ass Backwards

by KrazyKeke



Series: War of Hearts [1]
Category: Deadpool (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And there will be a sequel, Attempt at Humor, Black Character(s), Black!Reader - Freeform, Blind Al's granddaughter, Breaking the Fourth Wall, F/M, Female Character of Color, Gah I can't tag, I am pretty sure that this has four or five parts, Insecure Wade, Kidnapping, Minor Violence, Post-Deadpool (2016), Reader-Insert, The first chapter looks weird, ignore it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-02-11 20:15:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12942939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrazyKeke/pseuds/KrazyKeke
Summary: Superficial beauty never mattered much in the long run, especially if someone was a piece of shit on a slice of white bread.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Request: Oh it’s cool just some deadpool/reader. Like where the reader is blind Al’s granddaughter(or daughter up to you lol) and she meets wade for the first time and immediately falls for him cause he’s akward and cute and he falls for her cause she’s sarcastic and funny??? If u cant its fine just wanted to ask cause i havent requested anything in a while lol

 

**AL** : Grow some balls and admit that you like her.

**DEADPOOL** : Excuse you.  _Rude_. I do have balls – massive ones in fact and it’s a shame that you can’t see because you’d go blind from the sheer awesome of how big they are…

**AL** : Y/N is’t going to be single forever, she doesn’t care how you look.

**DP** : My face looks like the inside of other people’s assholes and she looks like Beyonce!

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Grandma!” Pounding on the door of her house, you held a newspaper over your (h/c) hair, a futile shield against the rain which was steadily pouring down, soaking your clothes. “Grandma, are you home?!” Not hearing an acknowledgement from the older woman but figuring she was out or asleep, you half sank to your haunches, placing the grocery bags onto the ground for a moment, fingers brushing underneath the welcome mat until… “Aha!”, retrieving the spare key, you stood up again, grabbing the bags as an afterthought. Once you unlocked the front door, you stepped inside, lowering your arm and dropping the soaked newspaper into the trash can near the door. Although it was ingrained habit to take your shoes off when stepping onto carpeted floor, this floor looked, putting it politely, atrocious, and was riddled with suspicious looking stains. 

Though, you knew this wasn’t the older woman’s fault, it was the previous tenants who’d left the place a wreck and while the landlord was supposed to rip up the carpets and replace them with new ones, he was such a jackass and liked to take advantage of the disabled and weak; a schoolyard bully in all sense of the word. Grandma Al had her pride and refused to move in the apartment you shared with your mother though there were at least two other guest bedrooms. Mom had begged, cajoled, gotten angry and tried to bribe her, but she wouldn’t budge on her stance, which had hurt your matriarch and for the moment, the two of them weren’t on speaking terms. Angry as she was at Grandma, your mother didn’t protest the decision you made to go visit the elderly woman today.

Looking around, you half wished that you’d come sooner. “This place is a pigsty.” You muttered aloud to yourself, entering the small kitchen and placing the bags onto the empty counter space. 

“It is just as nasty as a frat boy’s bachelor pad, you’re totally right, miss author!” The jovial tone caused you to jump and whirl around. Standing right behind you in a spandex, red body suit, with, ‘Were those  _fucking swords_?’ You thought hysterically, eyes widening and heart hammering in your chest. Before you could draw breath to scream, a firm hand wrapped covered your mouth, silencing you. “Easy there, Beyonce, I know you’ve got quite a pair of lungs on ya, but Al’s upstairs, sicker than an old dog on cocaine, which maybe, not the best terminology–”

Reaching behind you into the sink, overflowing with dishes, you grabbed onto the object and swung harshly. The pan hit the man hard against his cranium and he crumpled. Taking panick-y breaths, you leap over his crumpled body, running up the stairs two at a time, “Grandmaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” Turning to the left, you twist the knob of the door and it opened easily.

“Y/N?” Grandma did look sick, you registered. Heart slowly starting to calm down to a more regulated rhythm, you went over to her bed and took a seat. “I didn’t know you were coming to see me, child. I’d have been more put together.” Her words lit a metaphorical fire inside of you. “We gotta get outta here, Grandma.” Confusion flitted across her face but you recognized the stubborn tightening of her jaw. “Grandma, I’m serious. I don’t know if you didn’t lock your door or something, but there’s a guy downstairs in a red suit with swords–”

“They’re katanas, actually.” 

A short scream left your throat as you heard the familiar voice of the psycho dude who’s skull you’d bashed, and again, your heart sped up in anxiety, even as you moved to use your own body as a shield, trying to obscure the view of the elderly woman behind you. “Y/N, girl, would you settle down?” Al’s wizened, exasperated voice filled you with embarrassment. “I told you about Wade before, remember?”

“Uh…uh-huh?” Keeping one eye on him, guard still up defensively, “But you ain’t say anything about him wearing spandex. Or creeping around corners, sneaking up on people.”

The guy, identified as Wade, raised a hand. “That was definitely not one of best moments. I don’t have many of those anyway.” Thrusting a hand in front of your face, “To be fair, you’ve got quite the arm on you. You clocked me good.” His tone was light, amused, maybe.

On autopilot, you reached out, clasping his hand in a shake. 

“Aww, you’re gonna end it here?”

There will be more chances for you to woo the reader. 

“Woo her? What is this, some cheap romance novel?”

Shut up, Wade!

“He does that alot?” You glanced back at your elder, having watched Wade turn and talk to empty air, and she only smiled, chuckling. “It’s a quirk of his. Just go with it. He’s still a nice boy, Y/N.”

“If you say so, Grandma.” 


	3. Chapter 3

Sitting on the newly purchased couch, feet tucked criss cross, applesauce, and in front of you, on the glass table, your laptop is open on YouTube; more specifically,  _Everything Black_  by Unlike Pluto ft. Mike Taylor, fills the living room of Grandma Al and Deadpool’s (Wade, call him Wade) shared apartment. 

(E/C) eyes are closed to half mast as your fingers slowly, methodically, took your time undoing braid after braid. Less than half your hair is down from the excursion, but you can’t be bothered to care about that, experience had taught you that if you yanked at the weave braided into your natural hair, more than likely you’d end up with a bald spot. Hair grew back eventually, but who in their right mind wanted to walk around with a bald spot?

_Crash!_  The front door slammed open, hitting the wall and Dead–Wade’s–cheerful voice pierced the silence of the once quiet apartment. “I bought pizza and Mountain Dew, it’s okay that I took a little nibble off the pepperoni and green pepper with pineapples pizzas because I really wanted to know why you liked it so much even though it’s completely gross and my tongue tingled for like ten minutes from the peppers–” Most people would have tuned Wade out by now, nodded along with strained expressions on their faces or told the merc to shut up. You didn’t do that. Just turned your head a little, fingers still moving in practiced motions, but you didn’t say anything, although you listened. 

Sometimes you didn’t have the words to speak on certain subjects but Wade could talk and talk and what he said was sometimes nonsense, other times random and completely unrelated, but occasionally, he could be insightful and deep. 

“It’s fine that you ate some of my pizza as long as I get some of yours.” Another braid is down and you toss it into the small waste basket near your left side. For the moment, you decide to take a break as your fingers are starting to cramp. “Did you bring plastic cups, paper plates and paper towels too?”

“Really, really, you’re not mad at all, because if I were you, I’d totally stab me with a fork or something, which don’t do that since it would so fucking hurt, for a second, and I really am sorry but I was super hungry coming back here and I was like ‘Y/N won’t mind, what’s a little pizza between compadres, eh?’, ya know and then–”

As he sets the box down on the spare space next to your laptop, YouTube decides in that instance to change to another song,  _Distraction_  by Kehlani. 

Holy. Fucking. Hell. 

‘Just ignore it, Y/N, just. ignore. it.’ If you changed the song abruptly, Wade would probably get the idea that you didn’t want him to think that you liked him in that way, which, you most definitely did. ‘In that way, fucking Christ, I sound like a pubescent teenager with her first crush.’ 

It was true. After the many weeks of coming to this apartment and steadily cleaning it with Wade’s help, just like the elderly woman stated, you found that the merc was a good guy. With loose morals. Very loose morals. Not that his loose morals was a deal breaker for you. He talked lots of shit to Grandma Al and your maternal grandma easily kept up with him. Watching the two of them was kind of like watching a tennis match, only ten times more entertaining. 

However, with you… With you, he was more awkward and shy. Not the typical ‘can’t keep eye contact, look someone in the eyes’ type of shy, but more like, Wade just had word vomit. 

‘Or I could be overthinking it. Again.’ 

A hand waved itself in front of your face, bringing you back to the present. “Hm?”

“You spaced out for a second there.” Perhaps you’re imaging the hurt you hear there. “Something on your mind, share with the class, bestie!”

Internally taking a deep breath, you decided to stop thinking for once and just do it. Speak on your feelings. The worst he could do was reject you and that’d suck so terribly, but wasn’t this even more terrible, feeling this way and not ever being able to do anything about it?

“Let’s go out.” The words felt inadequate. “Like, on a date. Us. Alone.”

God, this was just not your day. He was going to say no. Who the hell asked this type of question without at least being somewhat prepared? No one. Everyone that you knew at least were dressed to impressed, with their hair done, not half finished and a hot mess –

“Okay.” Wade said cheerfully, flipping open the lid of the pizza. Classic pepperoni, yum. “Can I watch Busty Beauties?” Frowning, you squinted at him. “No.” There was a pause. “You really want to go on a date with me?”

He lifted his mask just enough to reveal the lower half of his face so that he could take a bite of his slice held up to his mouth, and you marvel at the amount of trust that takes for Wade. The merc knows that you don’t judge him and then when you blink, his cheeks are puffed out like a chipmunk’s as he chews on his food and then gives you a thumbs up as you stare at him from the corner of your eye. 

Fondness and amusement wars inside your chest. 

This guy… ~~You like him~~.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun-dun-duuuuuun.

Whistling cheerily, holding a few boxes of pizza, under the cover of the night, Wade skipped along the broken and uneven stone steps of Cloverfield Lane.

“Are you fucking serious right now, author?”

Don’t be a pain in the ass and just go with it!

“Okay, okay. I guess since I gotta…”

Feeling all over his body, he used his free hand to slap his forehead, muttering ‘Duh!’ underneath his breath. Leaning down, Wade kicked over a rock and grabbed the key which had gotten embedded in the dirt. Twisting the key in the lock, the chain hit the ground and he pulled on the handle of the warehouse door.

“Help me! Someone help me! HELP!”

Taking his sweet time, Deadpool closed the warehouse door, not bothering with the lengthy process of making sure it was locked from the inside. Gathering up the pizzas in his hold again, he walked down the rickety stairs at a leisurely, sedate pace. 

“How ya doing, Don Lothario, having fun, just hangin’ around down here?”

Admittedly, he probably, maybe, had overdone it. 

The captive had his hands handcuffed and feet bound with rope, a makeshift noose around his neck, which was wrapped around the nail which had been quickly pierced to the wooden frame behind his head; in front of the captive were two keys, which he’d been led to believe were his ticket to freedom.

“I’m never going to tell you where she is.  Never, hehehehe. Never!!! You hear me, you crazy piece of shit?!”

Flipping the lid off of one box, revealing mushroom and pineapple pizza, nonchalantly, Wade pulled at the edges of his mask a little so that his mouth is revealed, and he took a generous bite. Pretending not to notice when his prisoner couldn’t stop staring at the pizza in his hand, “You will,” It’s said with absolute surety and then he took another bite, making an obnoxious sound of enjoyment. “Want some?” Holding out the slice that he’d bitten off of. 

“I know what you’re doing and it ain’t gonna work.” 

He shrugged. “Okay then. More for me.” Flipping open the boxes of the other pizzas, the merc whipped out his favorite switchblade, stabbing at a slice of cheese pizza before bringing it closer…and closer…to his mouth. 

“Fucking feed me!”

“You just said you weren’t hungry, Joey. No take backs, sorry.” Then because he was a shit, he ate that slice of cheesy pizza too. Once finished, he looked up and nearly busted a gut laughing, almost falling out of his fold up chair, at the affronted look on the guy’s face. “You’re really terrible at this game, Sammy. Absolutely no poker face. It makes me wonder why your bosses didn’t just kill you before it got to this point?”

“When my brother hears about this…”

“Ah! Now we’re getting to the nitty gritty of the matter!”

“When my brother finds out about how you’ve been treating me, he’s going to take it out on your lady friend, asshole.” For a single second, Deadpool paused. “Yeah. Maybe beat her up, bruise that pretty ski– _AAAAHHHHHH_!”   
The knife embedded itself in his leg. He screamed, flopping about gracelessly. 

“Rule number one of Deadpool’s DayCare.” Pushing the blade in a little more, relishing how the screams hit another level. “‘Show some goddamn respect to your caretaker.’” Roughly removing the blade, he once again ignore the sobbing. Instead, he wiped the blood on the guy’s crusty, grimy shirt. “Do you know what the shitty part of being happy is? Hm?”

“Please…No…”   
The serrated edge of the blade caressed his cheek, the cool metal producing chill bumps.

“There’s always that one jealous bastard ready and willing to snatch someone’s bit of happiness away.” There’s a pause and the energy in the room became charged with hostility. “You  **took** my  _happiness_ , my  _ **light**_ , the only good thing I have left in this world. So I’m going to take  _your_ life away.”

“No. No. No. Wait, wait. No. NO. NOOOOOO!”

There’s a wet squelching sound and then…silence. 

Breathing heavily, Wade kept eye contact with the useless waste of space, as he gagged and choked to death on his own blood. As the light left his eyes, the merc’s shoulders hunched up with agitation before he just  **snapped**.

He overturned a table, the chair, threw the pizzas around the room.

Ripping his mask off, he pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, a choked off sob clogging his throat. 

Nearly overcome with despair as he was, that didn’t mean he was deaf. The warehouse door opened noisily. Putting back on his mask, Deadpool checked to see if he was carrying his guns (the incident with Dopinder never need be repeated) and he was. 

If someone had found him, then they were going to d–

“Shit, Wilson, turn on a damn light in here, would ya?”

“WOLVIE!!” Flying up the stairs, he launched himself at the feral, unsurprised to get an adamantium fist to the jaw. “’ou ‘ame (Translation: You came)!” Wade’s jaw was dislocated and it stung like a bitch but that was irrelevant. “’Emmmy! ‘Ou ‘oo!!! (Translation: Remy! You too!!)”

“Looks like you started the party without us, mon ami.” Playing with his cards, Remy’s red on black gaze is, as always, hidden by his signature bowler hat. The hellish stare is pointedly glancing at the slumped corpse. 

“I wasn’t for sure if the Professor would let you two out past bedtime. Ow, shit, fuck a duck.” Gingerly, he pressed his fingertips to the tender area. “You still hit like a train, Wolvie.”

“Did this  _other_ douche at least have an inkling of where your girl is?” Logan was not going to give into any baiting. 

“Well…” Like a kid with caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Wade poked his fingers together, an air of guiltiness about him.

Remy sighed and Wolverine pinched the bridge of his nose. “Luckily for you, we know where she’s supposed to be moved. Let’s get the fuck out of here. It stinks.”

“Why didn’t you just lead with that? Let’s  _go_!” 

**~**

Drip-drip-drip.

The room is cold and dark. You’re strapped down to a metal slab and wearing only a hospital gown. Pumped to the gills full of drugs, you go in, then out of consciousness.

“You know, you’re only experiencing pain like a human is because that’s what you’ve tricked your brain into thinking.” The man, this sadist, who’s been assigned to break you, methodically uses his instruments to produce the most pain with the least amount of effort. “That you’re one of us. But you’re not. You’re  **not**. If you were human…you would have died hours ago.”

You had learned less than five minutes in, underneath his ‘tender’ mercies that there isn’t any reasoning with this maniac, he’s a mutant hater and an advocate for wanting the genocide of anyone not purely or totally American (i.e. white). 

‘I’m going to die here.’ 

Perhaps it’s selfish but you didn’t want Wade to find your body. The two of you had been together almost five months, gotten closer and slowly, he brought his friends to meet you. You are certain that you loved him but couldn’t bring yourself to say it aloud, even though you tried to show it with your actions. 

“Oh.” He sounded genuinely surprised. “You’re crying.”

A short scream, turned into a wheeze, escaped your clenched teeth when he poked at something delicate. 

“Don’t do something so human. It’s unnatural.” 

His voice sounded far away, reverberating in your ears then became overlapped by another’s. Blinking slowly, you try to focus but it’s difficult. 

## Be human. Be human. Don’t let them find out. Be human.

“Oh ho!  _Now_ we’re getting somewhere.”

The door is thrown open and a man? Enters. “The Avengers are here. We gotta move, now, Doc.”

“I’m not finished with my patient, Mr. Rumlow.”

“You can find other mutants to torture and study. You’ve been paid alot of money by HYDRA which means–”

An explosion rocks the building.

“I’m not leaving without it! Let GO o–”

There are two gunshots fired and the sadist hits the floor. The man, Rumlow, approaches your side, a gun raised to your temple.

“Good night, Princess.”

## Take my life. When you wake…

Just as he squeezed the trigger, the bullet impossible to dodge at this angle… You closed your eyes, accepting that this was the end. The door bursts open again, revealing Captain America, who immediately flung his shield at the HYDRA operative’s gun. 

The bullet only grazes you.

Eyes opening again, heart still beating in your chest rapidly. Too rapidly. Glancing to the left, you see that your torturer has enough strength to inject you with something. 

Your heart begins to beat rapidly. Faster and faster. Trying to get air is an exercise in futility. Vision going grey around the edges, you try to croak out ‘Help’ but you can’t and fall backwards onto the metal slab again. 

Everything goes dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been long overdue. I feel sad now that this fic has come to an end. BUT! Never fear, there is a sequel to be written. Metaphorical bombs will be dropped and hopefully your minds will be BLOWN. If you liked this, please review. Thanks so much for all the support and love, guys <3!


	5. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, really, this is it for this fic.

The air is chilly, every gust of wind sprinkling little snowflakes through the atmosphere and tugged at the hair and clothing of passerby. Couples, holding hands as they ran to their cars, sometimes laughing together with breathless exhilaration, others carried their children or jogged with their dogs to their vehicles or to catch a taxi/bus. 

Almost everyone was running to get inside from the cold.

Sitting alone on the stone park bench, gaze directed to the waterfront overlooking the city, was an older, distinguished looking man. He had grey hair, severe lines around his mouth and eyes, with a neat beard and goatee, spectacles resting on the bridge of his nose. 

“Sorry! Sorry, I’m late, sir.” Heavily sitting on the same bench, a middle aged man fiddled with his scarf. “My daughter, she was…”

“I don’t care about your excuses or familial issues, Mister Brickman.” 

Flushing a ruddy red with mortification, the individual, now identified as Brickman, nodded, closing his mouth with a ‘click!’ of teeth. “Yes sir, Mr.  Munchausen, my apologies, again, anyway, sir.” 

Barely a twitch of expression could be seen on the other’s features, “What I am most concerned with, Brickman, is what my dear friend, Nazario, intends to do now? Project MAXIS is open again,” Brickman tried to open his mouth but the other male spoke right over him. “Don’t bother lying. I… **HATE** …liars.” His voice had inadvertently raised with frustration before he collected himself again.   
“…We are  _exposed_. After that nasty bit of business in 1988, I swore never again. Yet, here we are.”

“Mr. Nazario assured me that this would be an open and shut case. You wouldn’t even…” Brickman exhaled, then paused, licked his lips. “I only wanted what was best for the organization. To help you reclaim our lost legacy.”

“Lost legacy…” With a scoff and derisive laugh, he continued on to say, “Hundreds of men and women were slaughtered in  **SECONDS** during the trial phase. Project MAXIS was shut down and deemed unsuitable because the collateral damage outweighed the payout.” Brickman shook his head, looking ready to argue. “Scott is leading you down the yellow brick road with fairy-tales of humanity being capable of controlling this thing, but this creature is beyond corralling.”  

“I understand your trepidation, sir. You lost someone very dear to your heart that night,” he ignored the infuriated look thrown in his direction. “But Mr. Nazario went over your head to the higher ups. They’ve caught it, sir. I think they plan to dissect and study it.” 

Rising up from his seat, brushing his trench coat of the little twigs and debris, he shook his head, “What they’ve caught is a  ** _BABY_** , sleeping soundly, unaware of it’s own strength and capabilities. But when you play with monsters, Mr. Brickman, when you play with monsters…” Again he shook his head. “Goodnight.”

“Good night, sir…”

**~**

Down down down, you fell, floated, drifted.

‘Oh, there  _is_ a white light.’

You were glad that the assumptions about life after death were at least somewhat concrete with the facts.

## Open your eyes.

‘Wha-?’

Blinking, you glanced around, surprised to no longer see darkness all around but now, you are in a garden of some sort, the sun shining overhead. There’s a woman in a pale blue dress, her back to you, humming softly underneath her breath, hands in motion as she worked with the flowers. 

‘God is a woman, a black woman. I  _knew_ it!’ 

“He…hello?” The woman didn’t respond. Stepping closer, “Um. I don’t want to be critical or anything, but shouldn’t there be like pearly white gates and angels singing? Because, because I’m…”

## Don’t be foolish. Our kind cannot be killed so easily.

“What? I mean, excuse–hnngh!”

Eyes widening, blood seeped down your chin. But that was irrelevant because you could feel it, her hand was buried in your stomach.You try to say something but words aren’t coming. 

A gentle hand stroked down your cheek. 

## So long, I’ve waited for this moment and to have it ruined…because of them… Make them pay. Make them regret that they ever laid eyes on you.

You couldn’t move or breathe when she tore your heart out.

The next time you blinked, the scenery changed again and you’re falling, falling, falling. Streams and wisps of red light strike out at you from every angle, piercing you over and over, forcing itself down your throat, and you can’t spit it out. 

It hurts.  _It hurts **SO BAD**. _

You think that you’re going to burn up and break into pieces, which is crazy right, because you’re already–!

The thickest wisp forced itself through your skull and your back arched. You writhed, clawing at your face. Flakes of skin fell off and disappeared into nothingness. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy. Easy.” 

Again the scenery has changed, only this time, you’re back in that cold, dark room that the Doctor had tortured you in. You think this is another nightmare and you just can’t wake up. So, why is Iron Man here, why does he have his repulsor rays aimed in your direction?

You’re not a threat and you just want to be left alone. 

“Can you understand me? You can, can’t you? I’m going to lower my hands, okay? When I do, when I do, do not–”

Once again, you’re being treated like you’re some dangerous thing, so very common in America for any person of color, but this is your dream, you’re nightmare, you’re in control and you wanted him to go away.

You’re about to tell him to take a hike when something slammed into your side, hard.

“Cap, I had it handled!”  
“It was going to attack. I saw it, Tony!”

…Why? Why was this happening, why are you being punished?

Please, just stop. Just let it end.

Just let it–

**~**

“I think you made it angrier, Capsicle.” Tony stated tersely, the Iron Man helmet snapping shut, hiding his face and he backed up. Steve reached up and snagged his shield which had rebounded back into his grip, he placed it in front of his body defensively. 

“No, you don’t say.”

‘What on Earth was HYDRA experimenting with?’ 

The being snapped it’s restraints and leapt up on the examination table, something resembling a cross between a roar and a screech left it’s throat before it lunged in their direction. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Working on the sequel as y'all read this. What's on the agenda? Suffering with a side order of McAngsty, the original angsty gangsta, Bucky Barnes~


End file.
